


Drinks at Biers

by Morvidra



Category: Discworld
Genre: Alchemy, Alcohol, Ankh-Morpork City Watch, Collection: Purimgifts Day 3, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-23
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-24 16:29:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6159652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morvidra/pseuds/Morvidra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CSI: Ankh-Morpork</p>
            </blockquote>





	Drinks at Biers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cptsdcarlosdevil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cptsdcarlosdevil/gifts).



Location: The Back Room of Biers Public Hostelry

Time: 9 a.m.

Investigation into the death of Herbert Gotobed (Small-Time Criminal, Con-Artist, Petty Thief).

Officers present: Sergeant Angua, Sergeant Littlebottom (Forensics).

Witnesses: Susan Sto Helit (Schoolteacher, Anthropomorphic Personification (Acting)) and Violet Bottler (Personal Assistant).

 

Susan dubiously prodded the surface of the drink in front of her. It bent slightly.

“It’s certainly an… interesting colour,” Violet said, as one who has been taught to say something nice at all costs.

Susan nodded, silently. It was a very interesting colour, although not one traditionally associated with cocktails.

Angua sniffed at the glass. “Smells like apples,” she said in the tone of one who would not care to comment further, but who knew exactly what kind of apples had been involved.

Cheery had forced some of the substance into a test tube, and was examining it closely.

“Interesting compounds here,” she was muttering. “Definitely organic…. fermented… might be some herbal components… you say he was drinking this when he died?”

“He just fell over!” Violet gestured widely, her arm describing a smooth arc from the perpendicular to the prostrate.

“Death was instantaneous,” Susan added. The other women carefully did not ask how she knew.

Cheery hmmed. “And Igor calls it – what?”

Angua had got hold of a drinks menu, and was scanning it carefully. “Apparently,” she said in a tone of horrified fascination, “it’s called a mud slide.”

They looked at the drink.

“I think,” Susan said flatly, “that if Igor doesn’t take this off the cocktails menu extremely quickly, my workload is going to increase exponentially. And I’m only supposed to be holiday relief.”

““Yes, I’m fairly sure bartenders aren’t supposed to poison people that quickly,” Angua said. “It ought to take at least a few weeks, even in this town.”

“Oh, dear,” Violet sighed. “Igor was so proud of inventing it, too. And I suppose it makes sense from his angle,” she added kindly.

Susan snorted. “What – sideways?”

“No, I mean: fermented plant matter – when you get right down to it, that’s all wine is, after all.” Violet looked faintly apologetic. “I’m sure he thought it was the same thing.”

Cheery looked at the test tube she was still holding. “So what you’re saying is that aside from the choice of plants involved, this is exactly the same as drinking wine.”

All four women shared a brief shudder.

“Right,” Angua said with determination. “Unless Igor’s planning on appealing to the gnoll market, this has got to come off the menu.”

“What about the case?” Susan inquired.

“Suicide,” the Watch officers said in unison.

“A normal human drinking in Biers?” Angua said, shaking her head. “It was suicide from the start.”

“But you’ll still have to tell Igor he can’t sell manure as a cocktail,” Cheery said. “Now… do any of you fancy a drink?”

She looked at their expressions.

“... after we leave here, I mean.”


End file.
